A Young Assassin (Revised)
by Raven6224
Summary: *Rewrite* The Red Room is most upset by the betrayal of their most successful assassin Natalia Romanova (The Black Widow) She turned her back on Mother Russia and must pay for her treason. Created in the labs of the Red Room Varya Romanova spent a lifetime undercover and killing everyone ordered. The Black Mamba exists simply to kill the Black Widow. But does she really want to?


**I: The Black Mamba**

* * *

 _The Red Room is very displeased by the recent events corresponding with their most valuable asset: The Black Widow. Natalia Alianovna Romanova has been compromised and as such has turned her back on Mother Russia. Her treachery could not be allowed to go unabated, their punishment would be severe and delivered in a most horrendous fashion._

 _She would pay for her mistake is a way that she'd never see coming. All trainees of the Red Room are required to go through a procedure. Insurance of sorts, the kind to keep their agents strong in both body and mind._

 _Designed to keep the most dangerous enemy away from their creations. Motherhood is the most intimate foe to the women of the Black Widow Ops Program. One that they have to have purged from themselves. As such, the procedure takes away the possibility and the desire to create life—most of the time._

 _The instinctual urge to procreate and pass along DNA is a burden their agents can't afford. Fortunately for the Red Room, the possibility isn't lost entirely. The Red Room does not allow their agents to leave nothing behind._

 _That's why a collection of their most successful graduating agents have their DNA stored away for future use. In the event of wanting more warriors like their predecessors._

 _And Natalia Romanova was one of them._

 _It may take many years for their vengeance to rear it's ugly head, but The Red Room will receive the justice they deservingly seek and Natalia Romanova's own kin will be her downfall..._

* * *

 _ **Novosibirsk, Russia**_

 _ **Center of New Medical Technologies**_

 _ **December 2016**_

A folder in splayed out across the tabletop, it is a simple little thing. Completely insignificant in appearance. The contents of the seemingly useless file are quite extraordinary and groundbreaking. About man by the name of Mikhail Kazakov: a world renowned biomedical scientists with too many degrees to list who spent much time working on an experimental substance to help the medical field.

His work has placed him very high up on the list of potential Nobel Prize winners should his concoction pass the regulations necessary to be dulled out to the public and mass market manufacturing.

Rumors claim that serum he's created as a cure for death. Kazakov denies the claim, going as far as to publicly denounce it. He claims that there is no bases for the assumption of a 'cure for death' and that there's no grounded evidence to support the theory yet. At the moment, the serum has only shown to have an astronomical healing bases that mends most open wounds and poisons in the bloodstream that would be fatal.

The cure for the modern disease.

And a breakthrough to dangerous to allow Kazakov to live.

Which is why HYDRA sent me. Before the serum is looked over by government officials, Kazakov wanted to spend a few more months to ensure the serum was working like he intended and to make sure there went any ill side effects from it. For his final examination Kazakov brought the serum here to the Center of New Medical Technologies in Novosibirsk, Russia with rats as test subjects for 24 hour observation.

This facility is the perfect place for someone like Kazakov to work out any unexpected kinks, as the CNMT specializes in personalized medicine creation, genetic modification, regenerative medicine, and gene medicine.

A most fitting place for Mikhail Kazakov to spend his final moments. He is my mission after all...

I step over crumpled bloody papers littering the floor and swipe the folder detailing Kazakov and the ingredients of the serum from the top of the desk and slide it under my arm. An altercation between myself and the now lifeless security guard ended with the man face down in a pool of his own blood as I'd been leaning over to examine the folder.

He didn't understand.

A necessary casualty that needed to be dealt with. He was inhibiting my plans by poking his large nose where it was not wanted and it allowed to continue might have blow my cover. Part of me twinges with what most could be identified as guilt, I've always despised this part of the job. It sickens me that this is far from the last one to suffer such a fate.

Under the alias of Rada Ilyanova, the new intern, I was ordered the infiltrate the facility and get close to Kazakov. Which now that the security guard is dead leave Kazakov complete defenseless against me. He won't last long.

 **. . . .**

Mikhail Kazakov had his back to the door, he was leaning over the long narrow table in front of him. Jotting down occasional notes on a sheet of paper beside him with a red ink pen. Probably notes for improvement and anything noticed during the observation. I sweep silently into the room and the unaware man doesn't even lift his head.

"—seems to be working like I'd hoped..." he mutters to himself and he continues adding to his sheet of paper. "No notable side effects can be found from observation, rats seem to be healthy and well recovering from their injuries. At a rather alarming rate, the blood clotting double the speed of standard healing rate..."

Moving closer to him, I slam my hand down on the table beside his face.

He jumps back, falling from the chair he's seated in. It hits the ground with a crack and his body his the cold floor, he groans and looks up at me. Stunned and confused, his dark eyes twinkle with unspoken questions.

"Rada...? What are you doing here. I thought you left quite awhile ago. You could have just spoken to me rather than give me a heart attack y'know?" he replies, still good-naturedly. He right the stool he was seated in and looks at me.

"I am afraid that my reason for being here is not the most pleasant of things. While I could bore you with the details, I'm afraid you will not live long enough to dread what I will do."

"What are you saying?—" he is confused, I see the growing fear in his eyes as he takes in my stoic expression and my tense muscles. He must sense the true danger of the situation.

"Doctor Kazakov, I will apologize beforehand. While it sickens me to such a degree that I cannot sensibly voice, I have been ordered by someone of higher authority to have you executed. While your work is brilliant, it has made you a threat. One that cannot go one. Goodbye."

His eyes go wide with panic and before he can say a word, I swing my foot around and knock his legs out from beneath him. The bones crack and he shouts out in agony. I kick him in the face and use my leg to roll him over on his back and press my heeled boot into his chest.

Reaching into my purse, I pull out Makarov Pistol and aim it at the man's head.

His face is red and blotchy, his nose bloodied and his bottom lip busted and red. There are tears in his eyes and I shove my conscious to the back of my mind and allow the unfeeling coldness seep into my bones. "P-please... don't-don't do this please, I-I I'll give you whatever you what, just name your price. Please, I don't want to die."

"Unfortunately for you Kazakov, I'm not the one who gave the order. I just fulfill them." I cocked the gun.

 _BANG!_

 **. . . .**

He stood in the middle of the foyer, the brightly lit room did not fit the dark subject of our meeting. This is the man who calls the shots and give the orders, like the one for the termination of Kazakov. Without having to make any announcement of my presence, Ruark turns to face me. A wicked gleam in his blue eyes and a twisted smirk on his face.

"Welcome back, you succeeded, I presume?"

"Of course, failure is not an option after all," I move further into the room and hand him the file I'd taken from the main office and the small notes made by Kazakov before his unfortunate encounter. I also carried a metal briefcase at my side and Ruark didn't miss it.

"And what have you got there? Something valuable?"

I hand the briefcase to him. "Just as I was about to leave to catch my ride, I saw these vials of Kazakov's work. I assumed you would like all the evidence of his work wiped out, so I brought the rats and the serum he'd left."

His smile grew wider. "That my girl, is why you're my favorite assassin. That's what makes it such a shame that we have to loan you out from your handlers. The defunct organization that created you hasn't much else worth purchasing."

"I'm sure they'll be flattered by the analysis. Will they be coming back for me?"

"No, we have many plans for you and your handler agrees that you will be more beneficial here for awhile. They'll retrieve you in six months, until then, you will remain here. I've already had a room prepared for you. Sergei! Please escort Ms. Romanova to her quarters."

Sergei opens the door that I came in through and motions with his head for me to follow him. Ruark gives and approving nod for me to follow and just as I reach the door, he speaks.

"Enjoy your night Black Mamba, I have many great plans for you."

I say nothing at all.

* * *

A/n:

There it is, I finally got this stupid chapter rewritten in a way that doesn't make me want to throw up in my own mouth. This took forever and it's not even as long as I wanted it to be... This last part might get a rewrite later, but I wanted to get this done first. A Young Assassin will have a huge plot change and I hope I'll like it better then the original, hopefully I get the next chapter up soon. See ya!


End file.
